115 lines
5.6 KiB
Plaintext
115 lines
5.6 KiB
Plaintext
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(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)
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(*) (*) * (*)~*~(*) HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #886
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* 0 0 ~ 0 *
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~ 0 0 ~* *~ 0 hOGS ~ "The Quarex Commandments"
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( 0*~*~*0 ( ) 0*~*~ oF )
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~ 0 0 ~ ~ 0 eNTROPY ~ By: Quarex
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* 0 0 * * 0 * 10-23-99
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(*) (*) ~ (*)~*~(*)
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(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)
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I realize this text file, or at least the idea that spawned it, is
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entirely a result of the Dudley Boyz coming to the WWF. Ideally, this will
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be the last wrestling reference in this text file.
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In any case, there are a few things that you all really need to keep
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in mind if you want to stay on my good side. I honestly did not even know
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about these commandments myself until just recently, but as things turned
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out, violation of these commandments really, really, REALLY, piss me the
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fuck off. And, while I can control my actual physical manifestation of
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anger very well, it is still not a good thing to piss me off.
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Or, as Jeff Jarrett might say, . . . oops, a wrestling reference.
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Fuck.
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COMMANDMENT NUMBER ONE:
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THOU SHALT NOT FUCK WITH THE TEMPERATURE I SET IN MY FUCKING CAR.
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Okay. Everyone who knows me knows I like it cold. They also know
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that I am an entirely reasonable person, and when it is about 40 degrees
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(FAHRENHEIT) outside with a wind chill of 20 (KELVIN) I am not going to turn
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the air conditioner on, even if I want to. I respect that other people are
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going to be uncomfortably cold.
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BUT--IF IT IS FUCKING 75 DEGREES OUTSIDE, AND I HAVE THE AIR
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CONDITIONER ON--AND YOU TRY TO TURN THE HEATER ON--WE HAVE A PROBLEM. Now,
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this problem can be easily corrected by simply allowing me to reset the
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value of the temperature to cold, and by furthermore never touching the
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goddamn temperature knob again.
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HOWEVER, IF YOU *DARE* TO IGNORE MY INSTRUCTIONS, and FUCK WITH THE
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TEMPERATURE KNOB AGAIN, then YOU WILL KNOW MY WRATH.
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This, of course, does not apply to girls, for two reasons. First,
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Girls are always cold, so they get more leeway when they are cold. Guys
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should be rugged, and if they are not, they are inferior. Secondly, when a
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girl is fucking with the temperature knob, more likely than not, she is just
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playfully flirting with you anyway, and thus it is all for the good of
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mankind.
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COMMANDMENT NUMBER TWO:
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THOU SHALT NOT BE A PRICK WITH MY MILK.
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Yes, I have a thing for milk. I adore my skim milk. It is a child
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to me. Lactose intolerants, fuck the hell off. Milk is my ambrosia.
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Vegans, eat my fucking shit. Milk will flow from the wounds I slice into
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your feeble bodies with my massive claymore.
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So in any case--if you want some of my milk, you ask me for my milk.
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More likely than not, I will let you have a tiny bit--A TINY BIT--if you are
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doing something completely useful with it, such as consuming a bowl of an
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appropriate cereal (Reese's Peanut Butter Puffs, Cracklin' Oat Bran, Smart
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Start. . . these are acceptable).
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Now, if you are to, say, eat a cereal which I absolutely loathe, such
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as, oh, I do not know, THE WORST CEREAL ON THE PLANET, FROSTED MINI-WHEATS,
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AND FURTHERMORE, POUR OUT ALL THE FUCKING MILK AFTER EATING SOME OF IT,
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INSTEAD OF DRINKING THE LIFE-BLOOD OF ALL HUMANITY AS YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO,
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THEN THERE IS A PROBLEM. A BIG FUCKING PROBLEM.
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SO SUCK MY FUCKING DICK--MY MILK IS MY TEMPLE.
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COMMANDMENT NUMBER THREE:
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THOU SHALT NOT BE ON MY BED IF THOU ART DATING.
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Oh man, this has always gotten to me. It does not matter who you
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are, and whether or not I have any personal bias towards or against your
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relationship. If you are dating, you stay the FUCK off my bed. If there is
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one place on this planet where you can feel you have sanctuary from all
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things that hurt you, from all things that can upset you, it is your bed.
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Only in your bed can your ideal world become a reality.
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When two people, blissfully content with each other, and blissfully
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unaware of the pain you feel, think it is a good idea to sit on your bed and
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perhaps start kissing, then they are in violation of this commandment.
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This may be one of the most important commandments ever. Nothing, and I
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do mean nothing, felt quite as violating (especially since I essentially
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never feel violated) as when I found out that, while at IThinkICon this
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year, my best friend and his ex-girlfriend kissed on my bed.
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Considering he was my roommate, and his bed was FIFTEEN FUCKING FEET
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FROM MY BED, AND HE ALREADY HAD SOME IDEA HOW I FELT ABOUT THAT, you would
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think he would have been more careful about the third commandment. But no.
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Yes, he apologized a lot afterwards, which makes his sins forgivable. But
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let there be no doubt, all those who commit this ultimate sin are under the
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utmost pressure to beg forgiveness.
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My bed, my temple. The one thing you never, ever want to see, if you
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are in my situation, is the very thing which you seek--a relationship--
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taking place on the one place in which you can most vividly imagine such a
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beautiful eventuality taking place. This is a horrible perversion of the
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beauty of dreams.
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COMMANDMENT NUMBER FOUR:
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AMERICAN BEAUTY IS THE BEST FUCKING MOVIE EVER.
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IT IS. GO SEE IT.
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(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)
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( *(c) hOGS oF eNTROPY pRESS* HOE #886 ~ WRITTEN BY: QUAREX ~ 10/23/99 )
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